Chapter 4 - The Smell of the MarketAt four the next morning, Jayden woke to the sound of ice.
He had slept badly in the small apartment above the market.
The family rarely stayed there anymore, but Owen had refused to return home until he understood who knew what.
Below, workers shoveled crushed ice into stainless-steel display bins.
Jayden walked downstairs.
The market smelled exactly as Mrs. Harper said it did.
Fish.
Salt.
Cold metal.
He hated her for making him notice.
Owen stood near the loading door checking an invoice.
“You’re up.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“You’re suspended.”
“That’s not sleep medication.”
Owen almost smiled.
Jayden looked around.
His grandfather had opened Cole Harbor Seafood forty-two years earlier.
The walls held photographs.
Boats.
Storms.
His father at seventeen holding a striped bass almost as long as his leg.
Rosa carrying Jayden as a baby behind the counter.
Nathan grinning beside Owen on reopening day after Hurricane Wesley flooded the building.
This wasn’t just property.
That was the problem.
Emotion made people underestimate numbers.
Numbers made other people underestimate emotion.
Owen handed Jayden gloves.
“If you’re awake, work.”
Jayden pulled them on.
For two hours, they barely spoke.
Then Nathan arrived.
He looked terrible.
Owen kept cutting salmon.
“Office.”
Nathan entered.
Jayden started to leave.
Owen said:
“Stay.”
Nathan frowned.
“He’s fourteen.”
“He’s already in it.”
They closed the door.
Nathan sat.
“I took one hundred thousand dollars.”
Owen’s knife stopped.
“From Voss?”
“Advance against the option.”
Rosa entered behind them.
“You sold something you don’t control.”
“My twenty-five percent.”
“The operating agreement restricts transfers.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Nathan looked exhausted.
“Because the bank was going to call my personal note.”
Owen stared.
“What personal note?”
Nathan said nothing.
Rosa whispered:
“What did you do?”
Nathan had borrowed against his membership interest eighteen months earlier.
Not through the business.
Personally.
He lost money investing in a refrigerated distribution startup that failed.
$140,000.
He hid it.
Voss found out.
“They offered to solve it,” Nathan said.
Owen laughed bitterly.
“Nobody solves your problem for free.”
“I know that now.”
Nathan looked at Jayden.
“I didn’t know they’d involve you.”
Owen’s eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?”
Nathan swallowed.
“Dean Harper asked about Jayden.”
Rosa’s face changed.
“When?”
“At a meeting.”
“What meeting?”
Nathan stared at the floor.
“A month ago.”
“Who was there?”
“Dean. Charles Voss. Me.”
Owen stepped closer.
“You met Charles Voss?”
“Yes.”
“What did they ask about my son?”
Nathan hesitated.
“Whether he had Mrs. Harper.”
Jayden felt cold.
Owen’s voice dropped.
“And?”
“I said yes.”
“Then?”
Nathan looked directly at Jayden.
“Dean said Claire thought you were ‘reactive.’”
Jayden clenched his jaw.
Owen asked:
“Exact word?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
Nathan’s shame deepened.
“Voss said families make different decisions when pressure stops being only financial.”
Nobody moved.
Rosa whispered:
“And you stayed in that meeting.”
Nathan nodded.
“I told them not to involve Jayden.”
“But you stayed.”
“Yes.”
“You took their money.”
“Yes.”
Owen opened the office door.
“Get out.”
Nathan stood.
“Owen—”
“Get out.”
“I can help.”
“You already helped.”
Nathan looked at Jayden.
“I’m sorry.”
Jayden wanted to scream.
Instead he said:
“Did you know she’d hit me?”
“No.”
“Did you know she’d humiliate me?”
“No.”
“Did you think anything bad would happen?”
Nathan’s eyes filled.
“I knew they wanted pressure.”
That was enough.
Jayden turned away.
Nathan left.
Rosa locked the door after him.
Owen looked older.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“I thought adults knew what they were doing.”
Owen laughed once.
“No.”
Jayden looked at the market.
“Then why do they get to decide everything?”
Owen answered quietly:
“They don’t.”
His phone buzzed.
May you like
A text from Officer Grant.
WE NEED TO TALK.
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